Innocent (In a Sin)
by Enula
Summary: Memories enter his mind more than they should, but what FP and Alice shared could not be so easily forgotten. When something so right goes so wrong, the 'why's' and 'what if's' linger forever. But they loved with such a burning intensity, that it had nowhere to go but out. At least...that's what they try to tell themselves.


**Innocent (In a sin)**

 **I.**

He would have done everything differently if given the chance—he'd lost his strength, lost the life he had known, and lost the person closest to him. But she was fine now. She was safe. His heart ached when they passed by as indifferent strangers, but he had to remind himself that it had been for the greater good—his suffering was the trade-off for her safety. Logically, it was an easy decision, but living it was proving to be difficult.

He told her from the start to stop second guessing herself. When she made her decision, she had to stick with it. No regrets. He didn't know it was himself he was trying to give this advice to.

"Sorry I ruined your life! Maybe you shouldn't have married me."

FP, two rows over and with his seven month old daughter in his lap, heard Alice say this to Hal before the start of a first grade play. He tried not to look over at the happy couple, but he could see Alice eyeing all around her to see if anyone noticed the argument.

Like universal magnets, their eyes locked. She kept her eyes stoic. Always, always stoic. He could still remember a time when she wore her emotions on her sleeve. Especially around him. But here they were—two people who had shared so much of their lives together, now as far apart as possible.

Alice shifted in her seat and faced the front, fanning herself gently with the pamphlet. FP noticed how her stiff hair hardly moved. So much product—so much falsehood. Her hair used to be wild and free; he loved running his fingers endlessly through her curls. And he loved how his soul could split wide open when her intense eyes burned when she kissed him.

"She's hungry," his wife said into his ear. FP looked down at his Jellybean who was trying to stick her whole fist in her mouth. Gladys grabbed a premade bottle from the plastic beach bag between them. While other parents around them had the fanciest and most efficient diaper bags available, they found that a two dollar bag from the convenience store worked just as well.

FP cradled his baby in the crook of his arms while she successfully held the bottle to her mouth with her tiny hands. Her midnight black hair was is messy pigtails, and her bright yellow sundress was stained with mashed peas and drips from a chocolate popsicle. She was barefoot because she refused to keep any shoes on, and FP and Gladys couldn't afford to continue buying her new shoes that she was bound to grow out of in a few months anyway.

Forsythia was the mirror image of her mother.

FP looked back over to Alice, her oldest daughter sitting next to her. She looked to be in a crisp new outfit without a hair out of place, harshly held back by a headband. She sat perfectly still and kept her eyes on the stage. She seemed like a model child, but just last week, word spread around town that she had gone missing and Alice demanded the whole town help her find Pauline.

The little girl was found rather quickly, though no one seemed to know where or how. The search was simply called off.

"Are you okay?" He dared to ask her when he spotted her at Pop's a few days later.

"I'm _fine,"_ she said shortly and without even looking at him. She was gripping onto her youngest daughter's hand like someone was trying to pull her away, while trying to slip the takeout bags up her arm and balance four heavy milkshakes in to-go cups in a drink carrier.

She nearly dropped all the shakes and he instinctively reached out to balance the drinks for her, "You don't look fine." He didn't mean any malice by it. He was just trying to tell her that he could help her carry stuff to her car, but when she hissed a bitter, "Then stop _looking,"_ at him, he stepped back to give her space.

"Come on, Elizabeth," she murmured to her daughter who was still getting her hand clenched off.

Before they walked out the door, the young girl looked over her shoulder and waved with her free hand, "Bye, Juggie."

"Bye, Betty," Jughead said from beside him.

FP looked down at his son, "She a friend of yours?"

Jughead gave an uncaring shrug, "Sometimes she's over Archie's, but her mom doesn't allow her over there when I'm there."

"Is that so?"

FP tried to let the insult slide. But there was a time about fifteen years ago when Alice's parents forbade Alice to hang out with him. They were fine with her being with Hal, Mary, and Fred, but as soon as Fred brought FP into the circle, problems started to occur.

He and his mother had just moved to the north side to get away from the terror that was filling the south side. Both he and his father were Serpents, but one day his dad just didn't come home and his mom packed them up real quick and moved them to a low key trailer park. He was only sixteen, but his mother knew she couldn't take his leather jacket from him. He could only get out if he chose to do it, and even then, it wouldn't be that simple.

But he couldn't.

To ease his mother, he tried to immerse himself in something at his new school of Riverdale High. He tried out for football and somehow made the team. Everyone at school knew of him instantly—he was the bad boy from the south side. Though he made sure not to let anyone know he was a Serpent. That part of him was not to be shown.

It wasn't until he picked up the bass in the music room and started playing to let off some steam that he met Fred.

"Sorry for not introducing myself earlier," the light brown-haired teenager said as he straddled a chair across from FP, "I heard you playing from the hall and figured this was a good icebreaker. You're really good."

FP stared at him as he continued to play. They looked like complete opposites.

"I'm Fred Andrews," he held out his hand, obviously expecting FP to pause even though he just said he liked how he played.

Still, FP stopped and shook his hand, "FP Jones."

Fred smirked, "What's that stand for? Don't tell me your name is Fredrick, too?"

"No."

" _Oookay."_ Fred, thankfully, didn't ask him to elaborate, "Hey, I'm about to meet up with my friends at Pop's. Would you like to join me?"

FP's initial reaction was to say no, but he found himself considering it. He was tired of returning home every night to his mom asking him if he made any friends his own age yet. She came down with what she said was just a bad cold, but said she hated him fussing over her and that he should go out and be a normal teenager. He was still navigating _normal._

So he agreed to go. And when they walked through the door of Pop's, FP knew immediately which table of friends were his. There was a girl with very short red curly hair that waved enthusiastically at Fred. She was facing the door and sitting in the booth by herself. In the booth across from her was a buff blond guy who he knew was on the wrestling team—Something Cooper.

As they walked to the booth, the girl sitting beside him slowly turned her head to see who the redhead obviously mentioned. He was instantly struck. Her eyes, like electric bolts, met his and breathtaking. Her long, thick hair framed her face just right.

Fred introduced Mary and Harold first, but Alice made sure to introduce herself.

"Alice Smith," she smirked like she just told him a great secret, their eyes still holding as he took what little room was left for him when Mary and Fred slid as far in as they could.

"Forsythe Jones," he told her.

"I would have _never_ guessed that," Fred commented with a chuckle. "Anyway, I caught him playing bass right before we came here, and he's actually _really_ good. I think I can finally start my band with him…since you guys have no musical talent whatsoever."

Hal rolled his eyes, "Like you're much better."

"You take lessons?" Mary politely asked from around Fred.

"Self-taught," FP answered, still finding it hard to take his eyes off of Alice's, who didn't seemed to be ashamed to continue staring at him.

Just then, four milkshakes arrived. Mary casually mentioned that she ordered two chocolates for her and Fred. Hal was given the vanilla, and Alice was handed the strawberry. A large fry was placed in the middle of the table.

"Would you like to try mine?" Alice asked him, taking a slow sip before sliding it across the table to him. Normally, FP would have declined an offering as such, but after having seen her lips wrap around the red and white swirled straw, there was no way he could say no to her.

He wrapped his mouth around the straw but didn't sip. He could feel her watching him.

"That was nice of you, babe," Hal said to Alice as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair.

 _Point taken._ FP took a fast sip of the strawberry shake then slid it back to Alice. He ordered his own strawberry shake. Who was he kidding anyway? This was probably going to be the only time he hung around this crowd. They were already an established group of four. Two couples, apparently. There was no room for him, and that was fine. He was used to that.

But when he finished his shake (a little too quickly) and announced that he had to get back home (he planned on going elsewhere first), he could somehow tell that Alice was going to follow him outside.

"Forsythe Jones," she called before he could even put on his motorcycle helmet. Her lips were curved into the slightest of smiles. In the late evening sun, her glittering black top made her look like a goddess stepping out of a siren fountain to take him away. She looked at his motorcycle, "So does this mean I'm going to have to buy my very own motorcycle helmet?"

He grinned and underhand tossed his helmet to her, her hands quickly reaching out to catch it, "Think it means _I_ have to."

She gave the smallest of laughs as she admired the helmet. He watched the battle rage within her. In the background, he could see her friends looking out the window at them. There was no way he was going to be _allowed_ into the group now.

"You're too good for a town like this," he heard himself say.

He half expected her to say ' _you don't even know me,'_ but instead she just threw his helmet back to him and stuck her hands in her back jean pockets, "If you say so, Forsythe Jones."

"People call me FP."

She smirked before slowly backing away, "I'm not _people."_ She turned and went back inside and took her designated seat next to Hal. Probably the same seat she'd been sitting in for years now.

And he thought that would be the end of it. But surprisingly, Fred talked to him the next morning and told him that he should come over to his house later that night. It was Friday, and he could stay the night if he wanted to.

FP said he would think about it, and it wasn't until later that Alice came up to him in the hallway and mentioned that she lived across the street from Fred that FP decided he would take Fred up on his offer. That evening before he left, he made sure to grab his dad's old motorcycle helmet as well.

Mary was at Fred's when FP arrived. They were such a straight-laced couple—he wondered if there was anything truly wonderful between them. She seemed infatuated by him, but he treated her like his wife of many years. The difference was a bit off-putting.

He thought maybe Alice would come over since she knew he was there, but she never did.

After hours of practicing, and long after Mary had already went home, Fred finally passed out. FP looked out the bedroom window to see Alice sitting on her front porch. He somehow knew she had been waiting for him. And when he made his way out into the midnight air, she walked to the middle of the empty street to meet him.

"I noticed you magically have two helmets."

"Sure," he answered, crossing his arms over his chest, "If you believe in magic."

"Don't tell me you _don't,_ Forsythe. And just when I thought…" She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him through her dark lashes. He knew how someone could be both cute and sexy at once.

"You ever go riding before?" He asked.

She shook her head, her hair bouncing and swaying.

"Then it's your lucky day."

Alice smiled so big that her face reflected the moon. But before she could even make it to him, her porch light beamed on and her front door opened.

"Alice?" A deep male voice called, "Alice, what are you doing out this late?"

Alice shot FP an embarrassed, apologetic frown. Before she could even answer, the guy said, "Get back inside, right now."

"Okay, Dad," she called over shoulder. She gave a shrug that said _what can I do?_ FP wanted nothing more than to sweep her in his arms and place her on his motorcycle and ride off into the night with her father screaming at them in the rearview mirror.

But she—very obviously—wasn't a south side girl and he couldn't do that. At least…he tried to convince himself he couldn't.

 _"_ _Now!"_ Her dad insisted harshly.

 _"_ _O-kay!"_ Alice snapped back. She started walking toward her house and her dad seemed relieved with this and disappeared back inside. As soon as the screen door short, Alice spun back around, her curls falling over her right shoulder. _"Let's go!"_

To say he was taken by surprise was an understatement. But she grabbed up his second helmet and snapped it under her chin in record time. She had a wildness in her eyes that made him wonder if she ever did anything half as _crazy_ as this.

He placed his own helmet on his head without buckling it, swinging his leg over the cycle and kicking it started. The roar of the engine was enough to make Alice's dad come running back outside, trying to yell at them over the rumbling. Alice's arms circled around his waist and it somehow felt familiar.

He was ready to ride with her anywhere.


End file.
